DamonCentric Drabble Series
by Sebe
Summary: A series of short drabbles featuring Damon Salvatore. Mostly brotherly love or Alaric/Damon. Please heed the warnings listed for each chapter and please enjoy and review.
1. Alaric watches Damon

A/N: Set when Damon trashed Stefan's room.

Alaric watched from the doorway, lips pressed tight and brow creased in worry.

Damon stood in the middle of the wreck of Stefan's room. He breathed, harsh and hitching, and Alaric wasn't fool enough to account the shaking of Damon's shoulders to an actual need for air.

Anger gone, all Damon was left with was the loss, the crushing grief. Alaric dug his fingers into the doorframe, physically restraining himself from rushing toward Damon. The vampire wouldn't welcome a comforting hand or open arms, not right now. But this, Alaric could do; bear silent witness to the incomprehensible grief of one who found himself an only child for the first time in his life.

The vampire collapsed to his knees and wide blue eyes scanned the scene around him like a lost child. When those pleading eyes finally turned up to Alaric, the man finally allowed himself to move.


	2. KlausDamon noncon warning

Author's Notes: Warning! Warning! Briefly described non-con between Klaus and Damon. Implied Alaric/Damon.

Summary: Damon offers himself in place of his brother. Klaus accepts.

Damon lay on his back, bare skin against hard wood. Klaus loomed over him and a still compelled Stefan stood helplessly to the side. Damon turned his head away, closing his eyes. He could do this. He could do anything for Stefan. He just didn't want his brother to have to see it.

"Eyes open, pretty." Klaus purred. And okay, Damon could do this. He could even look at Klaus if he had to. Just not his brother. No matter how strung out Stefan still was, how blurry this recollection would be, Damon felt ill at the thought of Stefan remembering at all.

Klaus moved and Damon arched his back, viciously cutting off a scream in his throat. He wouldn't give Klaus the satisfaction.

Damon was floating on pain, his world darkening. He felt Klaus pull back peripherally, which he supposed he was grateful for. His legs let down and even if Damon couldn't feel it at the moment, he knew there was blood and…Klaus running sluggishly, smeared, between his thighs. Damon had the fleeting, hysterical thought that there had always been something broken inside him, now it just matched up physically, that's all. He barely managed to gasp out,

"Promised…you promised-"

"Yes, yes, I know, love." Klaus stroked Damon's face like a lover in a mockery of affection. Damon's fracturing mind wondered if Alaric would ever touch him like that again now. Or if Damon could stand it if he did.

"You're free to go, Stefan."

"….Damon…?"

Damon still had his head turned determinedly away. He heard the soft, questioning voice that he'd been attuned to all his life, and then un-life. It was all little brother and Damon was even more sure that he'd made the right decision. Not that it was much of a decision at all. He never was very good at letting Stefan die.

The control and confusion didn't wear off fast enough and Klaus ordered him.

"Leave. Go home now. Our business is done. Damon stays with me."

Stefan left, was compelled to, but he was aware now; calling out for Damon, tears in his voice as he realized what had happened. Damon wasn't one for assurances or last words, but he did hope his brother would think of something to say to Alaric. Something sweet and sappy that would make them both feel better about the way things had turned out.

How they'd ended.

His brother and his lover were the last thoughts in Damon's head before he succumbed, but Klaus's hands were the last on his skin.


	3. Vague angsty AlaricDamon sex

Author's Notes: Warning! PWP snippet with some angst thrown in. Alaric/Damon sexness.

Alaric tried to stop, but Damon had locked his legs around Alaric's waist, keeping him pressed in deep. Damon's head was still thrown back, arching from pain, not pleasure, like Alaric had thought a moment ago.

"Dammit, Damon, stop. I'm hurting you. I knew you were too sore for this."

Damon groaned, pained and annoyed.

"Just shut up for once and fuck me. I like it when it hurts."

"Damon-"

"Hurt me. Do whatever you want. Make it rough. Make me take it." The words were a demand, but the haze in those blue eyes, half-gone and desperate, those weren't demanding, but pleading.

'_Please, please, I'll be better. I can be better. Just…please. I'm trying so hard. Don't leave. Love me, love me, love me…'_


	4. Young Salvatore brothers

Author's Notes: Children!Salvatores. Damon always had a fascination with storms when he was young and Stefan was still afraid of being alone.

Damon made his way toward the large window carefully. He'd managed to avoid his father and the housekeepers who insisted he should be doing something productive with his time. Damon liked studying, really. Well, not most of the things that his father wanted him to learn, but he loved books, loved stories of faraway places.

But there was something more important happening now. It was raining. Damon loved the rain, adored it. It was something safe and blanketing while at the same time being wild and untamed; something unpredictable that could turn in a moment. The housemaids always scolded him and asked what was wrong in his head after they had dragged him back inside from a downpour. He'd just smile at them.

There was nothing better to Damon, nowhere he'd rather be than in the middle of a storm so thick he couldn't see a foot in front of him. It was something like magic, even though he was told not to think about such nonsense things. He was sure he remembered that his mother had loved the rain too. So he wondered why his father seemed to hate it.

Finally to the window, Damon reached his arms up to move away the curtain. Standing on tip-toes, he was able to bring his eyeline just above the wood finish to see out the clear glass. It was beautiful. Not a light spring rain, but a heavy curtain of water with rumbles in the distance.

He knew he couldn't make it downstairs to the doors, he could hear the maids rushing about their duties. But he could get the latch on the window popped and slip out, shimmy down to the overhang above the entryway and jump down from there, no problem. He'd done it a few times before. The maids only knew he got out, not how.

After a few unsuccessful attempts, Damon finally jumped and caught the latch, unlocking the window. Damon grinned wildly as a few stray drop slid through the crack to touch his hand. He backed up a bit as thunder rolled a bit louder, closer. It always took him a running jump to make the sill. He was still the shortest seven-year-old he knew.

Damon jumped and landed with his knee on the sill, purposefully quiet even though he'd bruised his knee every time he'd done this and today was no exception. It was worth it though. He pushed the window open a bit more, preparing to slide out when the thunder rumbled again and he paused, thinking he heard something underneath the crash.

A few moments of silence had Damon chalking it up to his imagination. But lightning finally flashed with a loud crack and the accompanying sound was anything but unheard this time.

"Damon!"

'_Stefan!'_ Damon pushed himself down and away from the open window and flew down the hallway to his brother's room.

"Damon!"

Damon let out an 'oomph' of air as he was tackled, arms wrapped tight around him. Damon kneeled, hugging Stefan back.

"What's wrong? Are you hurt?" Wide eyed and waiting for Stefan to stop crying enough to speak.

"It was loud…"

"The thunder? It's just rain, Stefan. It's not scary." Tone comforting, not scolding; he pulled back from his sibling. "See? I was in the rain and I'm fine."

Stefan's eyes widened, seeming to notice for the first time that Damon was soaked through from the rain streaming through the window. He started crying again and flew at Damon, hugging him tighter than before.

"Stefan? What's wrong with you?" Damon was surprised and worried. He knew his brother was a kid, but he shouldln't be freaking out this much.

"The way you look when it's like this outside…I don't like it." Damon stopped struggling, listening to the soft voice. "When the maids bring you back, you always look far away…It's gonna come one time and it's going to take you away and I don't want you to go! I don't wanna be alone!"

"…It's not….I'm not going anywhere, Stefan. Nothing's gonna take me away."

But Stefan didn't let go and Damon thought maybe he was right. He wanted to go. Let the storm take him, and maybe one day, it would. But for now, he just patted Stefan's head and told him everything would be okay. He let him hold on a little longer.


	5. Hurt Damon, AlaricDamon

Summary: A moment of crisis and fear between Damon and Alaric witnessed by Elena.

**Drabble 5**

"He needs blood." Elena's voice was shaky. She kept looking back to Damon's limp form, slouched against the wall. His head lolled weakly, eyelids drooping before snapping back. Elena hated seeing any of her friends hurt like this, but Damon…It was always especially bad with the virtually indestructible Salvatore brothers.

"We're both vervained up. We'd hurt him more than help." Alaric told the franticly worried girl.

"We have to do something." She paced a bit. She didn't understand how the history teacher could be so seemingly detached about the situation and it angered her a bit. Alaric should be the one most worried for Damon, the one seething with vengeful rage. "He can't take this much longer. He's dying Alaric-"

"You think I don't know that?" Alaric hissed at her lowly. "You think _I_, don't know that, Elena?"

She was silent in shock and Alaric regretted his tone, but dammit she wasn't the only desperate one and he had more right to his fears than she did. And she knew that. She nodded.

"I know…I know." Alaric took a moment to compose himself. With Elena threatened and Damon down, he had to be the calm one if they were all going to live through this. He was about to turn back around when he heard her. "Damon!"

Both were back at the vampire's side. His eyes were closed and Elena pawed at his face gently with upmost concern and care. She shook him lightly.

"Damon? Damon, open your eyes." She pleaded with him, but the man never so much as twitched. "Da-"

Alaric grabbed Damon's shoulder and shook him roughly, hard enough to hurt on a good day, let alone wounded like this. His head snapped back against the brick lightly and they all winced.

"Damon!"

Blue eyes snapped open before settling at half mast. He turned his head toward Alaric, seeming confused for a moment, before he smirked weakly.

"…'y know how hot you look when you're all violent?" Elena saw Damon's trademark smirk slide into something more fondly tender than she was probably ever supposed to see. "Still here, Ric."

Alaric let out a shuddering breath. He put a hand on Damon's head, threading black strands through his fingers. He nodded tightly at the vampire, eyes changing expression the same way Damon's lips had.

Despite herself, Elena felt a coil of automatic jealousy. She was sure neither her de-facto guardian or her former suitor had ever looked at her the way they were looking at each other. She wondered if Stefan could still look at her like that.

"Okay." Alaric breathed out. Damon's head drooped a little again and Alaric squeezed his shoulder, _'I'm here, I'm here, hang on'._ "Okay."


	6. Damon won't let go

Summary: Alaric's had a few close calls lately that have unnerved him. Turns out, they disturb Damon even more.

**Drabble 6**

Neither looked at each other, content to drink side by side. They weren't really the, 'look deep into each other's eyes', kind of couple anyway. Not their style. So silence passed as easily between them as annoyance and liquor and blood.

Typically, it was Damon who spoke first.

Typically, Alaric didn't like what he had to say.

"…You know I'll turn you to save you, right?"

"You know I'll kill you if you turn me, right?"

Damon's smug expression reflects in the mirror on the other side of the bar.

"I've thought about it. I can live with that. It's actually kind of a tradition." Damon shrugged. "I didn't wanna be here like this either, but dear little brother just couldn't let me go. And here we are aaall these decades later with such a healthy, fulfilling relationship."

Alaric hears what Damon doesn't say, of course he does. If he didn't, they wouldn't even be together. Most of the words that passed between them were hard-edged and sniping, but feelings trailed after the syllables, more there than what was actually said. So Alaric knew what Damon was saying, like every chick in a tragic romance ever, but there was still the ever present irritation that Damon evoked in all those he so much as passed in the streets.

Damon sets down his empty glass and stands, about to walk away when Alaric calls after him, not done with the argument.

"Damon-"

"Hate," Damon speaks without turning around, some almost foreign emotion in his voice. Some bittersweet reminiscence in the tone, things he had learned and had never wanted to. "fades, Ric…Love sticks around."


End file.
